


Pilot

by yohlenyaoilover



Series: Prison Break: The Project [1]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Exhibitionism-ish, Homosexuality, M/M, Sibling Incest, head canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yohlenyaoilover/pseuds/yohlenyaoilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael shows Lincoln his tattoos for the first time and yearns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my lovely project!  
> I've started re-watching Prison Break and plan on writing a short fic after each episode.  
> Each story will be titled to match the episode.  
> Sometimes the stories will relate directly to the main storyline, sometimes I'll pick out one moment that really strikes me and run with it.  
> This series will explore a whole bunch of pairings, with each one being a stand alone fic.
> 
> This story is for Season 1, Episode 1.  
> Let's go!

Walking in to Fox River State Penitentiary that first time was both exactly as Michael anticipated and entirely unexpected. The sights and smells of prison were overpowering; the sheer number of men crammed inside, the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, the burning lemon of the disinfectant they used to clean the floors. 

Michael tugged at the grey cotton cuff of the uniform he was given to wear, making sure it slipped down to fully cover his tattoo.

Seeing Lincoln face to face again for the first time since stepping inside the prison was unlike anything Michael could have predicted. Sure he'd seen Lincoln during visiting hours back when he was on the outside, but that had been through two inches of thick glass and seated in hard metal chairs.

But now, now his brother was right there standing five feet from him. Michael could see all of the details, they ambushed and bombarded him. Lincoln's close cropped hair, clean shaven face. That small dip in between his brows, a sign that he frowned far too much. Those green eyes, shaded and hollow. Lincoln's strong wrists held up against his chest to alleviate the pressure caused by the handcuffs. 

It took all of Michael's willpower not to throw himself down at his brother's feet. The relief that fluttered in his chest made Michael light headed. Every thought that his plan was stupid and ridiculous, that he should just stop and let Lincoln go was wiped clean. 

"Michael," Lincoln's deep voice sent shivers rolling down to his fingertips.

Memories rushed through Michael; all the times Lincoln had said his name, whispered it, screamed it. 

They were ushered out of the chapel by impatient COs before they had a chance to really say anything to each other. Before Michael had a chance to explain himself. After everything that Lincoln had done for him, this was the last place he wanted to see his little brother. 

It wasn't until much later, felt like days, when John Abruzzi had taken Michael's bait and given him his PI card that the two brothers truly got to talk. They spent their day painting walls in a remote corridor. When the COs called out the end of their work day, Michael hung back until he fell in to step beside Lincoln.

They entered the small changing area and sat down on the cold benches near the lockers. 

"You meant what you said earlier?" Lincoln pulled his deep blue overall down, exposing his shirt underneath. Michael's eyes naturally fell to that broad chest and those wide, strong shoulders. He was referring to Michael's rushed words about escape when they had their brief time together in the chapel.

"I'm not here on vacation, trust me," Michael replied in a light tone. Lincoln was serious, his face drawn tight. 

"Getting outside these walls, that's just the beginning."

Michael sighed. His brother's worry was welcomed, missed even. It stirred up feelings of nostalgia in him.

"You're gonna need money," Lincoln continued.

"I'll have it," Michael's gaze flashed to Westmoreland.

"And people on the outside, people who can help you disappear,"

"I've already got them," Michael shifted a little on the bench until John Abruzzi was in his peripheral vision, "They just don't know it yet."

Michael couldn't hold back the tiny smirk, everything was planned out perfectly. Their escape was going to work.

"Look, whatever you have planned fill me in because I'm in the dark here," Lincoln lowered his voice an octave and lent forward. Michael could practically feel the heat rolling off of him and it was intoxicating. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them and reacquaint himself properly with Lincoln Burrows.

Instead he set about explaining how exactly he was able to get his hands on the blueprints to Fox River. Michael stood up from the bench and walked to the small lockers, began unbuttoning his overalls, letting them hang down around his waist. 

"You've seen the blueprints," Lincoln murmured and for the first time in a long while Michael heard hope in his voice. 

"Better than that," He urged his brother to turn around. And Lincoln did. His eyes danced over Michael's body, the tattoo. He shuddered under the scrutiny. He could see Lincoln's breathing pick up, see the way his pulse began to flutter in his neck. 

This was the first time Michael had been anywhere close to naked around Lincoln in years and the affect it was having on his brother was visible. Michael preened under the attention, wished desperately that they were somewhere more secluded, somewhere Lincoln could get his hands on him, his fingers, his lips.

God, Michael had missed his brother's touch. Between prison and Michael's work, hell even college had made it almost impossible for the two of them to spend quality time together in far too many years. It had started as a drunken mistake, Linc came home high and Michael was stressed, pacing their flat with a half empty bottle of cheap vodka clenched in his fist. 

They had argued, Lincoln snatched the bottle from his brother's hand. Michael had pushed Lincoln away from him, Lincoln had pushed back. They'd ended up sprawled on their beat up sofa grinding together, hands fumbling over backs, panting each other's names against lips that were barely grazing. 

And now Michael craved physical contact from his brother but currently he would just have to settle for that burning gaze.

"Am I supposed to be seeing something here?" Lincoln asked, voice breathy and deep. He played for nonchalant but it was clear he was anything but. 

"Look closer," Michael turned slowly, biting his lip to stop a smile forming. He pushed his hips back a little, curving his spine and tipping his arse up just a fraction, teasing. He could hear Lincoln's intake of breath.

Michael could already feel the rush of blood through him, the tell tale twitch in his dick that told him he would be either finding an empty room somewhere so he could relieve the tension or go back to his bunk and face Sucre completely frustrated. 

Before Lincoln could react, the remaining prisoners were chaperoned out by the COs. Michael quickly redressed in his standard prison garb and left, walking as closely to Lincoln as he dared until they were split up; Michael back to Gen Pop and Lincoln to his lonely cell. 

The sheer number of guards and inmates made finding somewhere secluded impossible. Looked like Sucre was going to have to deal with a sexually frustrated cellie.


End file.
